


honey, honey (how you thrill me)

by CertifiedPissWizard



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: F/F, Non-Linear Narrative, Romance, and i think thats beautiful really, and love and people aren't like that, and then wrote lesbians in space, im just aaaaaaaaa, in which the author listened to too much pigeon pit, love stories are these neat things, nearly burning down the kitchen because youre real gay, they're formulaic and idealized
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertifiedPissWizard/pseuds/CertifiedPissWizard
Summary: Love stories are soft and gentle things. They have formulas. This is not a love story, Vespa thinks. It's better. "Yes," Buddy whispers. "It really is, isn't it?"
Relationships: Buddy Aurinko/Vespa Ilkay
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	honey, honey (how you thrill me)

Buddy is collapsed on the floor from giggling, and Vespa doesn't think she's ever loved her more. She thinks this often. It hurts sometimes, the force of it, and leaves her sobbing, because Buddy is there and real and alive and partly Vespa's. It hurts, crushing in on her until she can't breathe when Buddy laughs and smiles that tired drowsy waking up smile and calls her love and- Vespa loves her with a terrifying intensity. She drowns in it, but what a way to go- drowning in the love you hold for someone. She thinks sometimes about all the stories she'd heard about love, but then she dismisses all of those, because this is real. 

When they were- well. No point in mincing words, she thinks, when they were apart, Vespa couldn't help but want to tell Buddy ever stupid thing that had popped into her mind. She would narrate it sometimes, a background commentary to the part of her that so clearly remembered every aspect of Buddy. No mincing words, no dancing around topics. She's always tried to avoid that. Buddy loved that about her, she thought when they were apart. Buddy loves that about her she knows. 

She wanted to tell her every stupid thing she'd done, every ridiculous mistake, every single thing that would leave Buddy laughing so hard she would melt into a puddle on the ground. She wanted to tell Buddy those things, and then kiss her softly, tasting the laughter coming out of her lips- taste the honey sweet sounds of her joy. She wanted to kiss her gently, harshly, and everything in between. She just wanted, and she felt dizzy from the force of it. 

Now? Buddy is real and there and solid. 

"Love." A noun and a verb and a thing Buddy calls her and oh- oh- oh- Vespa loves Buddy so much it hurts.

Love stories are pretty and gentle and kind and soft and have happy endings. Vespa has this:   
\- sitting with Buddy, holding her after a nightmare  
\- dancing to songs people weren't meant to dance to  
\- the two of them cooking together and nearly burning the Carte Blanche's kitchen down  
\- hands tangled together tightly, screaming _i'm here and i'm with you and we're alive_

She has more, too. All of these things so much better than a love story. Buddy wraps her arms around Vespa, puts her face into Vespa's hair, breathing in the smell of her shampoo. "We need to dye your hair again soon, Love. Vespa-" Wordless from loving her, Vespa thinks, Buddy gone wordless from loving Vespa. Such a heady thing, she thinks.

"Bud." Her heart beats in her chest and every beat is both hers, because she is her own, and Buddy's, because she is Buddy's too. Isn't that something? Isn't that a miracle? Vespa doesn't tend to believe in miracles, but- she can't help but to believe in this one. She believes in people and symbols and promises and this one miracle of loving and being loved.

She burns her hand on the stove, and Buddy takes it before Vespa can run it under water and presses a quick kiss to it first. She smiles, Vespa does and Buddy does. She runs her hand under the cold water, and Buddy takes over manning the stove. Vespa holds her from behind, her chin fitting neatly onto Buddy's shoulder. She lets her eyes close. "Don't take credit," she warns jokingly.

"I am the captain, so I can claim some re-" Buddy squeaks. She's still ticklish. Vespa smiles at that, at Buddy, and the world. She stands there with Buddy in this little bubble. There's the smell of burning food, and they have to put the fire out before it can spread and almost burn down the Carte Blanche's kitchen, again. Vespa couldn't think of any smell lovelier or any look lovelier than the hints of soot on Buddy's face, though. She thinks with that sudden world-shaking, star-birthing, nova-forming clarity that she is so lucky. "We should go and-" Vespa goes back to holding her, shoving her face into the crook of Buddy's neck, just breathing her in. This is real. She could cry from it. "Love." Buddy's voice is soft, almost broken. "Love. Vespa, Love. Oh, Vespa." Speechless, Vespa thinks. 

It isn't a love story, because unlike love stories it's real. 

Vespa looks at Buddy giggling on the floor, and she leans down, pulls herself onto Buddy's lap. She kisses her, tastes that honey sweet joy on her lips. She drinks in the feel of Buddy's skin touching hers. For a moment? For this moment? This perfect moment? She doesn't think to be afraid, to have even that slight hint of terror. Buddy's makeup is smudged, and Vespa's eyes are wet, and her hair needs to be dyed again, and, and, and- Her heart beats love love love inside her chest. She sobs. Buddy holds her. 

Love stories are soft and gentle things. They have formulas. This is not a love story, Vespa thinks. It's better. "Yes," Buddy whispers. "It really is, isn't it?" 

**Author's Note:**

> i asked for help with a title i was gifted a title i have never heard the song the title is from be gay do crime


End file.
